April 13, 2005 leave me a comment for the title

I was starting to think maybe we’re all just feigning sincerity for our hopes that someone may reply with the same favor. You’ll never really know what’s crawling through my gaping mind at any one moment, and usually that’s a plus for the rest of you, not to mention myself. I’ll save it for the night, laying my head to sleep.

My mother can apply so many negative ideas to a subject I try to spark a conversation about; even something as easily answered with “good”, could be turned around on me to provoke some strife between us. I procrastinated my sleep, if that’s really possible, though I’m useless without it at this place. Why don’t they have the common courtesy to shut the damn door when they leave? My teacher’s patience is tested; he’ll sit and gaze out on the room, looking for someone to make eye contact, so he can make some relative body motion to which he is asking you to shut it. I’m not even turning my head towards him, but that has become commonplace by now; since I stopped participating in these damn projects. He probably thinks I’m such a degenerate with nothing better to do with my time than read blogs, and check out the latest abolishment of the planet. It's to see what consequence, if any, it has on me and my condition. Sometimes I wonder if I should even care; maybe this is just, and will only be just, a complete and utter waste of my time. Of course it’s nice to know what’s happening to other people from other cultures and religious backgrounds because to only think in this place with these surroundings is only going to become detrimental to me; I mean the inevitable truth is, we are going to get sick of anything we see or think about everyday, even ourselves. What’s behind those eyes of yours is only secret if you let it be, and hiding it is something we all have in common. When was the last time a stranger sat next to you and asked what’s on your mind…just as I suspected.

I see their eyes judging me, making those insinuating comments that are as smooth as butter on my toast. Just like my toast this morning. One piece of toast, then I started feeling sick to my stomach.

So, on the way to school, my interpretation of my mom’s body language was a horrible failure. She was only acting okay with me, by not talking, so I would ask her what was making her so neurotically quite--for lack of a better word--bitch. So, I gave her a justifiable complaint, nullified by a compliment for the coffee this morning. She wanted me to run in to Speedway and grab her some Krispy Cream Donuts. I made a simple head gesture and asked if I could get a coffee, and she passed "check in advance" money to me.


I LOVE YOU STEHPANIE! I WILL CALL YOU WHEN I GET BACK! (you will have my babies, if i ever need you to, b/c i said so)
(i wanna climb the rail of a girl like a fireman doing the reverse emergency)